


Assassin's Tango

by capricornwhore



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Angst, But there's a payoff because it gets really smutty, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Like lots of it, M/M, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky - Freeform, Otabek works for the Kazakhstan CIA and Yuri is a rogue Russian agent, Sexual Tension, Smut, There's a scene where yuri pretends to be a stripper and otabek is Shook, They keep running in to each other, Yuri is dangerous and beautiful and Otabek is done for, they fall in looooove, this will be long and indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 12:37:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16175228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capricornwhore/pseuds/capricornwhore
Summary: Otabek, Kazakhstan's top CIA agent, finds one of his missions gracelessly interrupted by a mysterious Russian who is as dangerous with his words as he is with his knives. After Otabek unwittingly saves his blonde adversary's life, they keep crossing paths while on missions and engage in a dangerous tango of witty arguments, saving each other, and unresolved sexual tension.However, as a fledgling trust develops between Otabek and the rogue Russian agent named Yuri, Otabek can't help but wonder why the government is after Yuri, and Yuri can't help but wonder why he keeps choosing to trust the Kazakh agent.BASICALLY, this is a long spy/CIA/government agent AU in which Otabek is an #agentdaddy and Yuri tries to act like he isn't into it as he keeps fucking with Otabek's missions. Plot twists ahead! Also, I really like building up sexual tension but I promise there is a lot of smut once you get into the story. This is gonna be a long fic with companion fics about Yuuri/Viktor, too!





	Assassin's Tango

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet for the first time, sexual tension abound!
> 
> Also, this is my first fic (but have faith in me, I'm a creative writing major) and I've been outlining the plot (which will be rich and complex!) for a couple months. I'm super excited to keep this going – please comment and kudos, it will help me be motivated to write more and keep this going!!
> 
> Come bother me on Tumblr! @thisbootysonfire

The lock was harder to pick than Otabek expected it to be. As his hands fumbled with the lock pick, he went over the warehouse floor plans in his mind: three floors, two exits, and one especially important office on the top floor.

 

 _Click_.

 

Otabek smiled to himself as he eased the unlocked door open, taking care to avoid making any noise. He preferred his jobs to be like his daily life: practical, efficient, and seamless. The first time he made a mistake on the job was his last.

 

As he slipped into the warehouse, Otabek took catalogue of his surroundings in the dark. He supposed that the space looked like any warehouse should – dormant machines and long work tables spanning the floor – but Otabek knew there was more to this building.

 

He began to ascend the stairs, but paused before leaving the stairwell on the third floor when he heard footsteps. _Patrols_ , he thought, crouching in the shadows while he waited for the four guards to move on to another section of the warehouse. When the noises of the guard’s shuffling faded, he slipped into the hallway and quickly spotted his mark – a singular door with the words “Celestino Cialdini” engraved into its metal frame.

 

After picking the lock to the office (which, thankfully, was substantially easier than the warehouse entrance) Otabek entered and scanned the small space, silently cursing Serik for not specifying _which_ of the five filing cabinets the documents would be in. He could imagine his friend and partner laughing. _Kazakhstan’s Hero, our best agent, is too good for sifting through files?_

 

Shaking his head and smiling, Otabek opened the first filing cabinet to scan the tabs within. He meticulously sifted through each file until – _bingo_ – he found his prize in a folder labelled “Advanced Weapons Systems.” However, as Otabek reached for the classified documents, he heard a noise outside. It would seem like nothing consequential to the untrained ear – maybe a shifting of an air conditioning vent, the scuffle of a small animal – but Otabek knew better. Carefully placing the pages back into the manila folder, Otabek inched over to the door of the office. When he cracked the door and peered out into the hallway, the patrol was nowhere to be found. Brow furrowed, he crept down the hall to check for any signs of trouble.

 

As Otabek scanned each empty doorway to various work rooms throughout the hallway, trouble was nowhere to be found – that is, until he turned the corner. On the floor lay the four guards in varying states of disarray. Two of them were knocked unconscious, one sported a bloody nose and broken leg, and one lay with his neck snapped. Before any of them could speak a word, Otabek turned and bolted back down the hallway.

 

When he reached the door of the office, all Otabek saw was a streak of blonde as a small form slipped out of the office window into the night beyond, with papers that looked suspiciously like the documents Otabek came to retrieve in hand. Cursing, Otabek leapt towards the window and grabbed the person’s ankle before they could climb up the side of the warehouse to the roof. He heard a grunt from above him as the unknown person tried to kick him off. However, Otabek’s grip was strong and he yanked their foot back down to the windowsill.

 

“Seriously?” Otabek heard an exasperated voice exclaim in Russian from above him.

 

Before he could respond, the door to the office burst open as one of the previously-unconscious guards barreled in. In his shock, Otabek loosened his grip on the intruder’s ankle, allowing them to scramble away from the chaos and to the roof.

 

Sighing, Otabek turned and faced the guard, who was sizing up Otabek’s above average height and solid build. They both remained still for a moment, waiting for the other to make a move, before the runt of a man reached for his gun. Wanting to avoid a stalemate, Otabek shot towards the window and followed the path the mysterious flash of golden hair took up the warehouse side.

 

Otabek severely overestimated his wall-climbing abilities. His bulky, inelegant frame, combined with his irrational (and only) fear of heights made for a slower climb than he would’ve preferred.

 

However, Otabek was still quick in his pursuit, and he reached the edge of the roof with a vengeance. Swinging himself up onto the warehouse roof, Otabek spotted his target on an opposite ledge with his back to him, speaking rapidfire Russian into a burner phone. The documents weren’t in his hand anymore – Otabek assumed they had been stashed away into the Russian’s backpack.

 

Otabek’s heavy panting must’ve drawn the man’s attention, because he soon turned and raised his eyebrows at Otabek from across the roof.

 

“Seriously?” It seemed to be his favorite word. The man’s voice was muffled behind a black mask that covered all of his face except for an oval around his eyes and a wisp of blonde hair that escaped through the hole. “I didn’t think a brute like you would be able to scale that wall.”

 

Otabek narrowed his eyes and took in the small man before him. Like Otabek, he wore all black and donned a backpack on his shoulders. He was maybe 5’6,” but Otabek knew that shouldn’t fool him – there were lean muscles packed into the man’s slight frame. He held his body with a confidence that spoke of many days spent fighting and training. 

 

“Well, this has been pleasant, but I really must be going,” Otabek was snapped out of his reverie by the man pulling a crossbow out of his backpack. Otabek was confused until he watched the Russian fired an arrow with a wire attached to it to a nearby building. The Russian meant to escape in the most cheesy, classic spy movie way – by ziplining like some kid’s nature guide to a nearby building. If Otabek weren’t currently barreling towards the small man in his purview, he would’ve rolled his eyes.

 

Before Otabek could tackle the man, he rolled out of the way with a grunt, dropping his crossbow in the process. Otabek quickly swivelled and lunged towards the figure in the dark, reaching to grab him by the shoulders. But the man was small, and easily dodged Otabek’s grip.

 

It was time to regroup and come up with a better strategy than _lunge first and think later_.

 

However, before Otabek could ask who the person before him worked for, the small man had thrown a knife at Otabek’s throat. Throwing his head back just in time, the Kazakh turned back to see the Russian a foot away from his face with a knife aimed towards his throat. Before he could make the kill, Otabek grabbed his hand and twisted it behind his back. Otabek pushed the man to the ground and dug a knee into his back, grounding out: “Who do you work for?”

 

Otabek heard a noise that bordered between a cough and a laugh. “Oh, he speaks! And Russian, too!” The man taunted. “I was beginning to worry you were the silent but deadly type. Good to know you’re neither.”

 

With a growl, Otabek lifted his knee and flipped the man onto his back, straddling him and holding him down with a firm grip. He ripped the mask off the man and froze.

 

 _He’s beautiful_ , Otabek couldn’t help but thinking.

 

“Wow. What happened to ‘Who do you work for?’” The man taunted.

 

Otabek internally chided himself for unwittingly saying that out loud. The man had eyes that seemed to sing the words to all of Otabek’s favorite songs. His eyes were the green of daring, of vitality, of strength. He had the eyes of a soldier, with a soft face that seemed to contradict the intensity in his gaze. With high cheekbones, a soft, pink mouth and the palest skin imaginable, the Russian before Otabek was a study in duality. On top of it all, he had golden hair that caught the moonlight distractingly.

 

“If you’re done staring at my mouth and sitting on me like an animal, I’d like to get back to trying to kill each other now,” the man underneath him said.

 

Otabek narrowed his eyes. The mouth he couldn’t stop staring at was vicious.

 

“You didn’t answer my question. Who do you work for?” Otabek asked again, pushing an arm into the man’s neck. _Soft_ , he thought. Otabek ignored his traitorous mind.

 

“The big man upstairs. The laws of nature. Capitalism. Whatever makes you feel better,” the Russian casually stated.

 

“I’m not playing a–” Otabek was cut off by the Russian headbutting the living daylights out of him. As he reared back and gripped his head, the man managed to throw Otabek off and crawl away.

 

As the smaller man scrambled to get up, Otabek lunged to grab his ankle, sending him careening back to the ground. As he hit the pavement of the roof, he cursed, turning over and kicking Otabek in the face. Otabek cursed as blood began to pour from his bottom lip, but he followed the unknown man as he ran across the roof to the door leading down to the lower levels of the warehouse.

 

However, just as the Russian reached the door, the guard from earlier burst through with a gun pointed right at his chest. Otabek watched as the smaller man halted. The guard grabbed his arm and yanked him to his chest, turning him around in the process so that he faced Otabek as the guard held the gun to his head.

 

“Stop right there or I’ll blow your little friend’s brains out,” the guard panted as the man that ruined Otabek’s mission stood unmoving and scowling.

 

“I don’t care either way” Otabek said as the Russian mumbled “We’re not friends.”

 

“Oh really?” The guard sneered as he took the safety off his gun. The man in his grip tensed.

 

Otabek wasn’t evil. He tried to avoid any unnecessary loss of life. However, he didn’t know this man – a man who had ruined his mission anyway. He should want him dead.

 

Which is exactly why Otabek kicked himself internally when he found himself saying “Wait” before the guard could do any further damage.

 

The guard paused. The Russian raised an eyebrow.

 

“What do you want?” Otabek ground out.

 

“Get down on your knees,” the guard ordered.

 

Otabek grit his teeth and slowly lowered himself to the ground.

 

“You know, I think this position suits you,” the blonde quipped with a smirk on his face, maintaining eye contact the entire time Otabek descended to his knees.

 

“You think you’d be more polite to someone trying to save your life,” Otabek fired back.

 

“I’m not some damsel in distress,” he spat. “I’m handling this.”

 

“Enough!” The guard shouted and tightened his hold on his bored captive. “You’re not _handling_ anything.”

 

“Actually, I am.” The blonde clicked his heels together and jammed his foot back into the guard’s shin. As the guard crumbled to the ground with a shout of pain, Otabek caught a glimpse of a small blade protruding from the back of his adversary’s shoe. _Clever_.

 

Otabek stood for a second in shock at the turn in events, but his trance didn’t last for long as the Russian, now freed, sprinted to his forgotten crossbow and prepared to zip-line to another roof.

 

However, before Otabek could run after him, he heard a shuffling behind him and watched as the guard, half sprawled on the ground, readied his gun and aimed it at the blonde man’s form.

 

Otabek didn’t think. He acted on instinct.

 

In a second, the guard was slammed to the ground with Otabek’s knee in his back, as the larger man ripped the gun out of the guard’s hand.

 

When Otabek looked up again, the Russian was staring back at him with wide eyes. They held each other’s gaze for a long moment before the blonde abruptly jumped off the side of the roof and descended into the night.

 

___________________________________________________________________________

 

Otabek ground his jaw as he walked through Kazakhstan’s CIA headquarters, Sezik by his side. Various agents greeted him as he walked by, but he paid no mind to them. He had more pressing matters on his mind.

 

After Otabek had knocked out the guard once again, he descended the side of the warehouse to meet up with Sezik, who was waiting in a van a few blocks away at a rendezvous point.

 

When Sezik yanked the van door open to face Otabek, his smile quickly faded as he took in Otabek’s gloomy disposition.

 

“What happened?” He had asked with a sigh.

 

Now, they both strolled into their shared office in headquarters and sank down at their respective desks.

 

“So, let me get this straight...” Sezik began as Otabek ran a hand down his face for the fifth time that night. “You had this boy – ”

 

“Sezik, I said he was small, not that he was a boy”

 

“– in your sights, where you could’ve easily shot him down, but you just… let him go with top-secret files you were meant to acquire?” Sezik asked with a pointed stare.

 

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I didn’t have much of a choice; he was too far away for me to shoot,” Otabek said defensively.

 

“What I don’t understand is why even save his life in the first place?” Sezik asked exasperatedly, repeating the same question he had asked the entire drive back to CIA headquarters. “You don’t even know who he is. His life is inconsequential to us.”

 

“It was a moment of weakness. I didn’t want more people dead than necessary,” Otabek explained, feeling entirely reluctant to tell Sezik that the Russian he saved was beautiful and witty and had eyes that made Otabek feel al– _stop_ , Otabek chided himself.

 

“Can you please drop this?” Otabek pleaded. “We have more pressing things to worry about, like the fact that I managed to lose an entire classified weapons file.”

 

Sezik rolled his eyes. “I don’t understand how you plan to explain this to Aidana.”

 

Otabek groaned at the thought of explaining his royal and illogical fuck up to the Director of Kazakhstan’s Central Intelligence Agency.

 

“We can worry about that tomorrow morning. For now, I’m going home,” Otabek stated as he unstrapped his holster and gathered his coat and wallet to leave.

 

Sezik watched with narrow eyes as Otabek left the office.

 

That night, Otabek dreamt about green eyes and a mouth that could kill on words alone.


End file.
